Sensitivity with Scope
by GIRL IN STORY
Summary: Tony came back into the room. He was carrying a tube of Crest Sensitive Toothpaste Plus Scope. He squirted some of it directly into Bucky's mouth. AN: This is neither porn nor crack. Team friendship, set after Civil War. No pairings. Deals with PTSD.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I absolutely am not recommending people do this in the event someone is having a PTSD triggered flashback. Ask permission before touching them, or you could make the flashback worse.

If you like this story, please check out the Kickstarter for my book. It was made a Project We Love, but I still need all the help I can get.

The link is on my profile page, because won't allow external links.

* * *

The Avengers had defrosted Bucky when they found a possible cure, but it didn't work. The brainwashing cure was a wash. Tony had made that joke, and Steve had almost punched him in his perfect veneers.

The cryostasis had actually made Bucky worse. Something to do with a cold cell that he hadn't wanted to talk about.

They couldn't put him in cryostasis again. Steve had asked the Avengers if Bucky could have a room at the compound. Tony had refused at first. He'd put his foot down, and he'd been wearing the suit, so it had nearly broken Steve's little toe, but eventually even Tony agreed it would be better to have Bucky "where they could keep an eye on him."

When Bucky had his first flashback in front of the Avengers, they had consisted of Tony, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Bruce. Tony and Natasha were playing Call of Duty. A bomb went off in the game, and Bucky got very quiet. No one else noticed, because Tony got very loud, but Steve always noticed Bucky.

"Guys, shut up!"

"Is this about my language again?" asked Tony. "Because if it is-"

"It's Bucky."

His eyes were glazed over, and his lips were moving, though no sound was coming out.

"Is it a stroke?" asked Natasha. "Bruce, what do we do?"

"Why are you asking me?" Steve had seen both Avengers look less nervous dealing with live artillery.

"You're a doctor!"

"I'm not that kind of doctor!"

Tony left the room. Steve would have been mad if he wasn't so distracted. Usually when Bucky had a flashback, Steve tried to talk him out of it, telling him stories about their childhood. It felt wrong to do that in front of the others, but there was nothing right about this.

"Hey, Buck, remember when-"

Tony came back into the room. He was carrying a tube of Crest Sensitive Toothpaste Plus Scope. He squirted some of it directly into Bucky's mouth.

"What the f-" Steve started, but then Bucky blinked.

"You're having a flashback," said Tony. His voice was matter of fact. "It's not real. Focus on the minty freshness. That's real."

"Toothpaste?" asked Bucky, wiping his mouth. "Really?"

"So you do know what it is," said Tony. He turned back to the game, but Steve noticed he muted the volume. After a moment, and a pointed look from Tony, Natasha picked up her controller too.

That was the fastest Steve had ever seen Bucky come out of a flashback.

He put a hand on his friend's real arm, telegraphing his movements. "You okay?"

Bucky nodded. "I'm fine. I'm going to take a walk around the compound."

His cheeks were pink. He obviously wasn't happy about alll the attention.

"Okay. Better be back before the pizza if you want any. We are dining with the Hulk."

"Not unless you ordered anchovies," said Bruce.

Bucky nodded again and left.

"I call winner," said Steve. When Natasha lost on purpose, he took his place next to Tony.

"So where'd you pick up that trick?" he asked softly.

"TV." Tony didn't miss a beat.

Steve let him have that one. "Well, then I guess we're lucky you're so lazy. Thank you, Tony. I mean it."

Tony scoffed, but his cheeks were pink too, so Steve used the distraction blow up his base.

"That's cheating," Tony whined. "You're an actual soldier."

"So are you," said Steve.

"No, I'm not."

"Hey, when was the first time we went to that schwarma place?"

Even Tony looked confused by the non-sequitur, and non-sequiturs were his first language. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just humor me."

"I know old people get dementia, but even you have to remember that. I mean, the schwarma wasn't very good, but it was after the Battle of-"

"Exactly."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

If you like this story, please check out the Kickstarter for my book. It was made a Project We Love, but I still need all the help I can get.

The link is on my profile page, because won't allow external links.

* * *

The next morning, Tony went to Bucky's room, before his common sense could wake up.

He walked in without knocking, because his common sense hadn't woken up.

Steve was in Bucky's bed. He was holding a book called _Read This, You Ignorant Slut: A Guide to Pop Culture References_. Tony decided to let that one go.

Bucky was fast asleep, his head on Steve's shoulder.

"You know we're very progressive in the Avengers, right?" said Tony, half-joking, because he wasn't sure how serious this was. How serious they were.

"Shut up," Steve said, without rancor. "We're from the 40s."

"Which means…"

"There was more homophobia back then, but homophobia was different. There was none of this 'no homo' stuff. Besides, it helps with the nightmares."

"His or yours?"

"Both."

Tony took another step into the room. "You do this every night?"

"Just the bad ones," said Steve. "I've gotten pretty good at recognizing them. Been doing this since we were kids. Back then, Bucky protected me from bullies. You know that. What you don't know is that then he went home, and his father beat him for fighting. Which is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of, and Bucky is my best friend."

Tony didn't know what else to say. That had been happening a lot lately. He wondered if Bucky used to be more talkative too. He almost asked, but then Steve sighed.

"Sorry," he said, either to Bucky or Tony or both. "I shouldn't be talking about this. Did you need something?"

"It can wait," said Tony. "You need to catch up on your pop culture, you ignorant slut."

Well, he'd almost let that one go.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

If you like this story, please check out the Kickstarter for my book. It was made a Project We Love, but I still need all the help I can get.

The link is on my profile page, because won't allow external links.

* * *

Tony finally cornered Bucky in the training room. Unfortunately, he cornered him literally.

"Ow." Tony rubbed his eye.

Bucky had pulled his punch at the last second, so he probably wouldn't turn get a black eye, but it would definitely swell up. Tony wouldn't have preferred a black eye. That looked dangerous, and a little mysterious. This just looked like he'd forgotten his nightly cream.

"I'm sorry." Bucky looked like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but it only did that on Training Simulation #5.

There was an awkward moment. It was awkward in part because neither man knew what to say, but mostly because they were both still breathing heavily.

"You're right not to trust me," said Bucky. "I'm still under Hydra's control."

Tony stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I have dreams about it almost every night. Sometimes even when I'm awake I can see it. Like the other day."

"Jesus Christ." Tony started pacing.

"I know," said Bucky. "I'm sorry. I'll leave. I never meant to-"

"Jesus Christ," he said again. "You don't know about PTSD."

"What?"

"PTSD."

Bucky wrinkled his nose. "The rapper?"

"The- What? No. That's PSD. Steve has got to stop reading those pop culture books and catch you up on the things that actually matter. I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner. I mean, Steve, sure, he's been watching a lot of _Housewives_ , and that stuff will rot your brain, but I'm supposed to be a genius. You've been under Hydra's control since World War II, and I doubt they had workplace health seminars."

"What are you talking about?"

Tony stopped pacing. "PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The term didn't become widespread until the Vietnam War. You might know it as shell shock. These days it's recognized as a legitimate disorder caused by trauma, which I kinda' think you qualify for. It can cause flashbacks and nightmares. That's not the mind control. It's just your mind not having a lot of control."

After a very long moment, Bucky said, "Is there a cure?"

"What did you think that toothpaste was for?"

"The cure for PTSD is toothpaste?"

Tony drew on his patience. It involved a lot of heavy sighing.

"One trick for dealing with flashbacks is to ground your senses. There isn't a cure for PTSD, but there are treatments. Some will work for you. Some won't. You should see a shrink, which I really can't believe we didn't think of sooner. Anyway, I'll set you up an appointment with a good psychologist. Pro tip: Bruce doesn't count."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm trying to earn my next boy scout badge."

"I was the one who killed your parents," Bucky reminded him, as if he needed reminding, but…

"You were the weapon," said Tony. "I was an arms dealer, whose weapons were stolen and used by terrorists. Of all people, I should have understood that."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:

If you like this story, please check out the Kickstarter for my book. It was made a Project We Love, but I still need all the help I can get.

The link is on my profile page, because this site won't allow external links.

* * *

Steve had a hard time letting Bucky go to his first therapy session alone, but he recognized that there was a line between overprotective and codependent, and he and Bucky had gotten to the end of that particular line about seventy years ago.

He watched on the security cameras instead. Out of respect for Bucky's privacy, he didn't turn on the audio.

Of course, Clint had been teaching him to read lips.

"Why did you enlist?" asked Dr. Strange.

This time, it was Steve who had a flashback.

 _Bucky was lying on the couch. Steve didn't know if he'd fallen asleep or passed out. Bucky usually tried to hide the worst of it from Steve, but this time he was wearing his undershirt, shorts, and nothing else except a bloody dishcloth. It was tied around a gash on his arm, which had probably come from the class ring his father had refused to sell it, even in the middle of the Great Depression, when he hadn't had a drink in two days, and Bucky hadn't eaten in four_

 _There were bruises up and down his chest. Probably cracked ribs again. The beatings were getting worse._

 _Steve went to the kitchen to get some ice from the cooler and a clean dishcloth. He pressed the makeshift icepack to Bucky's cheek._

 _"S'okay, Steve. 'M fine." Bucky's speech was almost as slurred as his old man's._

 _"Come stay with me."_

 _Bucky licked his split lips and coughed. When he spoke again, his speech was clearer, and Steve stopped worrying about a concussion._

 _"We talked about this, Steve. You got a hard enough time paying the rent since Sarah passed. The old man may be an asshole, but he's an asshole with a steady job. At least I ain't gonna' starve."_

 _"Not for more than a few days."_

 _"I can handle it."_

 _"You shouldn't have to."_

 _Bucky started to shrug, but then seemed to regret it. Steve moved the ice to his shoulder._

 _"I think you should join the army."_

 _"What?"_

 _"You gotta' get out of here, Buck."_

 _"I can't leave you, Steve. You're..." He didn't finish, because he didn't have to._

 _"I'll enlist too. Maybe we can get stationed together. Even if we can't, we'll both be over there, fighting the good fight, and then we'll come home with some money."_

 _"Steve, you got asthma, scoliosis..." He trailed off again. Steve realized it probably hurt to talk. "You're basically a walking hospital bill."_

 _"Look who's talking."_

 _"They probably won't let you enlist, buddy."_

 _"Well, then I'll just keep trying. As long as it takes."_

 _"Steve-"_

 _This time Steve didn't let him finish. "I'm afraid he's going to kill you, Buck!"_

 _Bucky laughed. "So you think I should go fight people who are actually trying to kill me?"_

 _"Yes!" he said. "Maybe then you would actually fight back!"_

 _Bucky stopped laughing._

 _Steve pulled his nebulizer out of his knapsack. He was out of breathe. He wasn't used to yelling so much._

 _"You always fight for me," he said. "You never fight for yourself."_

 _Bucky gave him a wry smile. "If I did, he really would kill me."_

 _"Not if we're trained soldiers. We could stop him."_

 _Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve's nebulizer, and he put it back in his knapsack._

 _Steve didn't want him to leave either, but it was for the best, and not just because the beatings were getting worse._

 _Bucky was changing. His Bucky was brave, cocky, and loud. He got all the girls, won all the fights, and told the worst jokes in the best way. This Bucky was different. He was quiet. He always followed orders, not trusting himself or anyone else enough to challenge them. The only people he still fought were Steve's bullies, and Steve was pretty sure that was more out of habit than anything else. Steve was afraid that even if Bucky didn't die, he was still going to lose him._

 _"Just come to the recruitment office with me and check it out."_

 _"Alright, Steve. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'll check it out. No promises."_

 _Steve had won, but it didn't feel like much of a victory._

 _This Bucky always followed orders._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I might write more, but I think this is the end of the line, guys. Thank you for sticking with me.

If you like this story, please check out the Kickstarter for my book. It was made a Project We Love, but I still need all the help I can get.

The link is on my profile page, because this site won't allow external links.

* * *

"So," said Steve. "How was therapy?"

He sounded about as subtle as he had the day he told Bucky's old man exactly what he could do with his bottle of whiskey and nearly got them both killed. For a guy who didn't like bad language, Steve could be awfully creative with his words.

"Confidential," said Bucky.

"I know, but-"

"That didn't stop you from spying on me. You've been spending too much time with Nat."

Steve scowled. "How did you know I was spying on you?"

"I've changed," said Bucky. "You haven't."

For some reason, Steve looked sad.

Sometimes Bucky felt like he could still read Steve's mind. Like even when he didn't know what was going on in his own head, he knew exactly what was going on in Steve's, and they were sixteen years old again, finishing each other's insults.

Sometimes, he wasn't so sure.

"Whatsa' matter?"

"You mean I'm still too controlling."

"You're Captain America. I think you're supposed to be a little controlling."

"I wasn't Captain America when I told you to enlist."

It took Bucky a moment to figure out what Steve was talking about because when Dr. Strange had asked him why he enlisted, all he'd said was that he liked the little hats. Steve had probably missed that, because he'd started one of his shame spirals (Dr. Strange had taught Bucky that term.)

Steve really hadn't changed.

"You're forgetting something," said Bucky.

"What?"

"You enlisted because of me too."

Steve started to protest, but Bucky cut him off.

"I know, I know. Once you went to the recruitment office, you saw all those men going to lay down their lives, and your hero complex kicked in." He'd learned that term from Dr. Strange too. "But you wouldn't have gone to that recruitment office if you weren't trying to save me. Because of your hero complex."

"That isn't why I was trying to save you," said Steve.

Unless he was fighting or waking up from a nightmare about being tortured for seventy years, Bucky wasn't a big fan of physical contact. Having every touch for almost a century be a Bad Touch (Dr. Strange taught him that one too) would do that to you, but Steve looked so earnest, and caring, and _Steve_ that Bucky reached out and pulled him into a hug. Steve didn't hesitate for a second. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and hugged him back. Bucky thought he heard Steve whisper, "No homo," but that was probably just another hallucination.

"I know," said Bucky. He didn't always know why, but he knew Steve Rogers would go to the ends of the earth, the end of the line, and back again for him. He didn't need Dr. Strange to tell him that.


End file.
